A Little Green Eyed Monster?
by decemberWriter
Summary: I was so not jealous. Because I do not get jealous. Drabblefluffish with some Fax thrown in. My first MR fic. ::Ch. 4 Up::
1. I

**Important Notes::** This is my first MR fic - so sorry if it stinks.

**Disclaimer::** Do I _look_ like I own Maximum Ride? Only James Patterson could ever come up with something so brilliant.

**

* * *

**

**A Little Green-Eyed Monster?**

* * *

I was _so_ not jealous. 

Because I do not get jealous.

So, yeah, ok, every now and then I envy things other people have – videogames, cute shoes, parents, houses, _food_. But that's perfectly understandable, considering the whole "mutant freak" thing.

But to be jealous of _her_? Pssh, yeah, right!

...So why do I feel the urge to rip that sickly sweet smile off the little Red Haired Wonder's face?

Seriously, how does Fang put up with that innocent perkiness _all the time_? He should be climbing the walls by now, screaming for ear plugs and a bat to keep her away with! He doesn't even show that kind of patience with _me_.

Where's an Eraser when you need one? I could _really_ use some hairy wolf butt to kick right about now.

Now he's _getting her a drink_. Talk about laying it on thick. Disgusting.

Just looking at her sparkling, oh-don't-I-look-cute-and-vulnerable expression makes me want to barf. Yeah, you're vulnerable. I could snap you in half like a toothpick.

Flipping my hair so that it hid my face, I strolled casually across the fast food restaurant toward the Red Haired Wonder's table, adding a little uncharacteristic swagger to my walk. 'Cause I'm all about the stealth like that.

I was careful to time the _ger_ when I should have _swag_ed, bumping the table at the specific angle required to, oh, let's say, knock one heaping large (large enough for _two_, sweetly enough) plate of greasy, ketchup-y fries into someone's lap. Someone with long red hair.

Ignoring the scream of disgust, I kept going out the conveniently placed door (every booth should have a door two feet away – it really adds to the atmosphere) and down the block, until I was far enough away from human population to spread my wings and take off.

See? I _so_ do not get jealous.

* * *

**Randome Notes::** Very short, drabble-ish fic. I was _inspired_, and it just sort of wrote itself. So if it's horrible, blame my faulty autopilot. 

...FAXNESS!!! I am a devoted Fax! fan. Not so much Niggy, or any other flock pairing, really. Thanks for reading, and review (if you want to n.n)

- Del


	2. II

**Disclaimer::** Maximum Ride is (c) James Patterson ...Not me ::cries::

* * *

**A Little Green-Eyed Monster? II**

* * *

I narrowed my eyes, watching them intently. That guy – Ham or Yam, something like that – was chatting animatedly, waving his hands around as he spoke. What a dork.

Max doesn't seem to care. In fact, she seems _intrigued_ by all his arm-swinging and blabbering. As if _that_ would fend off a horde of drooling, manic Erasers.

I almost crack a smile at the sheer ridiculousness of the thought.

They're sitting on a park bench, snacking on corn dogs (slathered with mustard and ketchup) and Max gets a little on her cheek, next to the corner of her mouth. Ham/Yam reaches out with a finger and brushes it away, making her stutter and blush around her half-eaten breaded weenie.

That's not the only weenie around here – Ham is grinning at her embarrassment like some kind of cool player, but I can see him wiping a sweaty palm (and mustard from Max's face) on his jeans.

I take a half-step forward, then slowly step back. I was _not_ here to interfere, just doing some reconnaissance. For a report at school. _Greatest Losers of the 21__st__ Century_. So far, Ham looked like the perfect research subject. I made sure to take careful note of all his movements.

Like the awkward way he placed an arm around Max's shoulders, trying to casually rest his hand on the bench, like it was no big deal. Or how he waved the other hand – corn dog still clutched in its sweaty grasp – as he prattled on about something else.

Ok, that was enough recon. It was time to go.

I took off at a quick jog, passing behind Ham and Max's bench at the same time as a jogger carrying a slushy. I stumbled slightly, my shoulder catching the jogger's as he tilted his cup hand to look a fancy watch.

I didn't bother to look back at Ham's cry of surprise as sticky cherry slush spilled down the back of his neck, but sped up a little – after all, I had that report to write – so that by the time Max and Ham looked around, I was already around the corner, headed back toward Anne's.

Come to think of it, I think his name _was_ Yam.

* * *

**Random Notes::** This is just some random spurt of inspiration I had... nothing really fancy. Although ::shifty eyes:: this is supposed to be a _secret_ update, considering I'm supposed to be working on my Naruto/Bleach crossover. Woops. Anyway, review and let me know that it was worth putting off my other stories, k? ...Please?

- Del


	3. III

**Disclaimer:: **James Patterson owns Maximum Ride. I'm still dreaming of the day he gives it to me.

* * *

**A Little Green-Eyed Monster III**

* * *

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate homework? 

Just in case I haven't: I _hate_ homework. I hate it so much I could just scream.

Those whitecoats wasted their time messing with genetics. They _should_ have been inventing self-solving homework. I know a whole lot more people would've appreciated it.

I gave a frustrated sigh and erased the whole equation – _again_. Math was much longer and more complicated in 9th grade than it needed to be. What ever happened to 2+2 equals 4?

Fang raised his eyebrows at my furious battle with the eraser (no pun intended). I sent him my best don't-you-_dare_-say-one-single-word glare and tried to turn my attention back to the math problem.

But I just couldn't focus. My attention would wander from the page, to fly buzzing by the window, to Fang still smirking to himself. Grrr.

"What?" I finally snap.

He gives an innocent _Who? Me?_ face and replies coolly, "I didn't say anything. Unless you need help, or something?"

I clench my pencil so hard I hear the wood start to crack. "Why would I ask _you_ for help? You're no better at math than I am."

Fang just gives me that irritating smirk again and turns back to the television, where he's idle flicking through channels. Weather. Sports. Celebrity dance competition. Soap opera. "We'll see when the report cards come…"

I snort. I'm _way_ smarter than Fang. Right? Totally right.

…I bite the eraser of my pencil and study the maze of numbers and symbols in front of me. It's like reading a foreign language that's translating another foreign language.

I jump at the sudden feeling of someone behind my back, muscles automatically tensed and ready to fling them into the garbage disposal three feet away.

Fang laughs at me again, leaning over my shoulder to read the math problem. He smells funny. Like guy smell? I never exactly noticed what he smelled like before (mostly because he didn't shower for weeks at a time).

"Multiply in the brackets first, then divide," he says finally.

"I knew that!" I tell him irritably, hunching over my paper so he can't see it anymore. I hear him chuckle, and can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"You're awfully cheerful tonight," I mutter. He doesn't reply.

Then he's walking away, back to his seat in Anne's big, comfy armchair in front of the television. I glance over my shoulder – just for a second! – and catch a quickly glimpse of his dark profile, outlined by the blue glow of the TV.

I turn back to my homework.

Multiply in the brackets first, then divide.

**

* * *

Random Notes:: **To live up to the 'jealousy' theme… Max is jealous of Fang's math abilities? Yeah, lets go with that! So far, this is the longest chapter yet. Not so much humor in it, though. Just Fax fluff, ha ha ha! I hope they were 'in character' - personally, I feel that Fang is a little too happy, but I'm not sure. 

I'm running low on ideas. Drop me a review with some hints?

- Del

(P.S. - If anyone likes the Midnighter books by Scott Westerfeld, I recently wrote a oneshot about it. Check it out, if you want.)


	4. IV

_Song:_ Again & Again  
_Artist: _Holly Brook  
**Disclaimer:: **I do not own Maximum Ride and its affiliated characters, yadda yadda. Nor do I own "Again & Again" by Holly Brook, yadda yadda.

* * *

**A Little Green-Eyed Monster? IV**

* * *

_"Unlocking metaphors  
__Caches that were safe before  
__Lost their secrets to the wind"_

I stop mid-step to listen.

"_It isn't everyday  
__You can see the other face  
__Watching you, I'm watching me  
__Who could this be?"_

Was that… Max? Singing? _In the shower??_

"_Your wounds begin to sing  
__Red melodies that sting like ice  
__Bury me… twice"_

Max does not sing. Much less in the _shower_, of all places.

…That I was aware of.

"_Running from the heat  
__From the lines that break me  
__Give another try"_

Yet (despite my disbelief), it was undoubtedly Max's voice drifting through the bathroom door, audible over the steady patter of the shower.

What surprised me more than anything was that she was actually _good_.

"_Fallen Angel  
__Your terminal high  
__Feeding the hunger of your sky  
__Take all the poison that I give  
__Just to live  
__For the feeling  
__Use me again"_

Okay, she scratched a little on the high notes – but otherwise, it was quite the admirable rendition.

The last time I remember hearing Max sing was when we still lived in the mountains in Colorado. It had been some child's lullaby, about not crying and Momma buying diamonds and birds and other random things. I don't even know where she learned it.

The kids ate it up, though. I guess they were still young enough to enjoy being sung to sleep – even though they were wide awake for another hour afterwards.

Still, there was nothing extraordinary about her singing then.

_"You're stuck in a centerfold  
__Written in capitals  
__Bake the time,  
__Talking through wine_

_"Young boys that you tantalize  
__Sipping on your pretty eyes  
__But you kill just to feel real_

_"Lately on this vine,  
__The showers have been steady  
__Are you ready for this flight?"_

I leaned on one shoulder against the wall, half closing my eyes.

Just listening.

_"Fallen Angel  
__Your terminal high  
__Feeding the hunger of your sky  
__Take all the poison that I give  
__Just to live  
__For the feeling  
__Use me again"_

Abruptly, the shower shuts off. I can hear Max moving around – pushing aside the shower curtain, opening and closing the cabinet, turning the faucet on.

She's still singing under her breath, too quietly for me to understand the words.

I pull myself away from the wall and continue walking, as if I had never stopped. To brighten the journey, I hum a familiar melody.

* * *

**Random Notes:: **Is this an original idea? I have no idea – but thanks anyway to **freexflyer** for suggesting it. I think, now that Max and Fang have each had two chapters for themselves, I'll wrap it up with the next one. No need to stretch it out pointlessly (especially when there was no real point to begin with). About the song – there was no particular reason for using it, other than I like it and was listening to it while I wrote. Sorry it's not a very long - I have an ongoing struggle with length. I like to get to the point. 

Thanks for reading. :3

- decemberWriter (And yes, I did change my penname. It now matches my livejournal x3)


End file.
